Freaks come out at night
by Jadeite no Miko
Summary: Severus and Draco, standing guard on the edge of nothing. Finished


TITLE: Freaks come out at night  
  
AUTHOR: Dancing Moon  
  
PAIRING: SS/DM  
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
WARNINGS: Character death heavily implied, angst  
  
FEEDBACK: dancing_moon@homtail.com Fb is warmly welcomed, as is constructive criticism. Flames will be openly ridiculed  
  
DISCLAIMER: This *grabs everything* is hers *points at JKR* This *hold out empty hands* is mine.   
  
SUMMARY: Severus and Draco stand guard together and discuss life, death and what to do when you are out of hope and have nowhere left to go. Only not in so many words.  
  
NOTES: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q-Fest, three word challenge (plangent, squelch, bastion). My helpful betas were Titti and Sheila. Many thanks!   
  
Soundtrack: Dir en Grey - Japanese rock rules ^_^  
  
ARCHIVING: The SSFF Archive. After the fest is over at my site http://shitennou.net and fanfiction.net. Anyone else interested, ask.   
  
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A gaunt shape walked over the greens of Hogwarts. Not that they were very green nowadays. Too many curses and counter-curses had sucked the life from the once verdant grass, leaving empty slopes of dirt. Or in the case of rain, a frequent occurrence in this climate, mud.   
  
Snape's shoes squelched as he trudged through the heavy sludge, leaving his dungeons far behind. Even when under siege, the old castle could provide a lot more comfort (and warmth!) than one might stumble upon out here in the rain.   
  
And these were his favourite shoes too...   
  
When he finally reached the wards, Snape was soaked to the bone and his toes felt as if they had turned to ice. Nevertheless he dutifully refrained from casting a warming-spell, knowing that even the slightest use of magic might alert the ones waiting outside of the barrier. Might alert him...  
  
Him. His former master, Lord Voldemort and the army of Death Eaters and Dark creatures that followed him.  
  
Hogwarts was no longer a mere school. The ancient stonewalls now housed the only free wizards in Britain. For over a year, Voldemort had laid siege against this last bastion of the light. Though the knowledge was not widely spread, Snape was painfully aware that with each passing day the Dark Lord was wearing down just a fraction more of the powerful wards.   
  
"Professor."   
  
He easily recognized the clipped tones belonging to Parvati Patil. She was standing a few feet on his right, leaning heavily on a rough staff of cast iron. Grunting in reply, Snape came up beside her and they began the ritual of replacing the guardian without upsetting the flow of magic.  
  
This was their last and best hope. Ancient magic, forged in blood and bound with iron and stone, had been used to erect a (hopefully) impenetrable wall around Hogwarts. But to keep the complex spells at full strength, it required four wizards or witches standing guard at all times.   
  
"Well, finally," Patil said as she finally released over the heavy staff to Snape, "I'll never become dry again! Wretched night, isn't it, Professor?"   
  
The Potions master was too busy catching his breath to answer. The iron burned in his hands and Snape imagined he could feel the weight of every spell isolating Hogwarts on his shoulders. An overstatement, of course, he only had to hold a fourth of the wards and he knew the Weasleys and Abbott were more than capable of taking care of their own part. But it was so very heavy...   
  
Every time he staggered back to his dungeons after yet another unbearably exhausting watch, he swore to himself that it would be the last time. He was too old to spend his nights waiting for an attack. He knew the others agreed. A Potions master's talents could be put to better use elsewhere. And still, Snape kept signing himself up on the guard rota, day after agonizing day.  
  
"Professor? Are you sure you can handle this?"   
  
Intellectually, Snape knew that she had every right to worry. If he failed, the girl would be dead before she knew what hit her. Unless she had the rotten luck to be taken alive by the Death Eaters, but that was something about which Snape preferred not to think. This didn't mean that her concern didn't annoy him to the extreme. He snarled, "I'm fine!" and glared at her, wishing that she would just go away and leave him to the night.   
  
Dark eyes regarded him carefully, and he knew she was not convinced. With a heroic effort, he straightened and even managed to relax his hands enough for it to stop looking as if the staff was the only thing keeping him erect.  
  
"Go inside and leave me alone, you little twit," he muttered. "This night is miserable enough without the company of a Gryffindor."  
  
She sniffed haughtily and said, "Fine. Fine, if that's how you like it. I'll just go inside and leave you out here, *Professor*. Enjoy yourself."   
  
He sneered at her retreating back, before turning to watch the area outside the wards. If Hogwarts itself seemed barren, the no-man's land directly outside of the wards was deader than a millennia-old ghost. Rivulets of murky water ran over the scarred ground, forming dark pools.   
  
If he thought about it, the rain was actually a comfort. It meant that he need not see the muddy water ripple and stir, as the twisted creatures shaped by Voldemort's excessive use of magic moved. Giant blind snakes, many-legged nightmares and feral beasts with the eyes of men waited in the darkness.  
  
Though they were not a part of the Dark Lord's army, they were effective guards in their own right. The Potions master's dreams were still frequently plagued by images of Longbottom, his podgy body being torn apart by what looked like a deranged cross between a spider and a fish. At least the boy had died a human...   
  
They had lost more than a few House Elves to the darkness. For unclear reasons, the crazed, rolling magic pulled irresistibly at the gentle creatures, and in the terrible days before the wards had been modified to keep people *in* as well as out, almost half the elven population of Hogwarts had slipped away. They weren't dead, Snape knew, because he had heard their high voices chatter in the darkness, seen shadows of what they had become. It sickened him.   
  
"You're being gloomy again," a familiar voice drawled.   
  
"Perhaps. But if I keep my mind sufficiently occupied, I will hopefully forget this blasted cold."  
  
"Nothing can keep this cold away... it will find everyone and freeze them to death."  
  
"Who's gloomy now, Mr. Malfoy?"   
  
He knew he should only keep his eyes trained at the darkness outside, but his heart cried out for a few moments of solace and soon enough Snape found himself face-to-face with the ethereal beauty of Draco Malfoy.   
  
Even in this awful rainy night, the boy shone with timeless grace. Unknown to the Potions master, his face softened and a spark of warmth ignited in his usually lightless eyes.   
  
"Good evening, Professor," Draco murmured, his eyes roaming over the Professor's face, carefully taking in the gradual relaxing of Snape's features. It hurt to see the only person besides Father whom Draco had ever cared for so worn down and hurt. He usually found himself trying to lighten the dark professor's mood in any way he could, a hard task if there ever was any.   
  
Tonight, however... The young man couldn't dredge up the energy needed. Things were going to hell and even if the happy Gryffindors inside weren't about to acknowledge this, he knew. The professor knew it too, but Snape was too stubborn to give up. According to Father, he had always been like that, something that had caused him a great deal of trouble in his younger days.  
  
"Have you noticed any unusual activity?" Snape asked, his voice sounding slightly less weary. After the first few minutes, the agony of the wards working through his bloodstream to stay grounded in the earth usually faded into a dull pain.  
  
Draco's thin lips twisted into a wry likeness of a smile, but his eyes remained cold. "You mean, besides those things-" He shuddered delicately and nodded towards the barrier. "-making enough ruckus to wake the dead?"  
  
"You know what I mean, boy," the Potions master snapped. "Have you felt anything from the Dark Lord? Your senses..."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Professor," Draco said. He closed his eyes and the exquisite face emptied of all emotions. "I feel nothing. I see and hear and know nothing... it is all shadows and smoke nowadays."  
  
"In that case, I envy you," Snape said softly. "What wouldn't I give to be free from the pains of this wretched time. But then, you *are* a Malfoy. As your father and grandfather before you, you have never been completely of this world. I don't expect you to understand what a blessing that is."   
  
"Professor... Severus."  
  
Cool fingers fluttered over his brow, and with a pang in his heart Snape remembered the mischievous eleven-year-old who had once graced his classroom. His teasing grin and innocent eyes were gone forever, drowned by Voldemort's evil.  
  
For several hours, the two Slytherins stood guard together, silent and unmoving. The silver-pale one suspiciously scanned the night for any sound or movement that might penetrate the awful weather, while the darker slumped against his staff.   
  
If anyone had come upon them now, they would hardly have recognized Hogwarts' dreaded Potions master in the tall man who seemed asleep on his feet. Rain dripped of his hooked nose and the wiry black hair was plastered against his scalp. Even the robes, usually floating and twirling all around him, hung limp, heavy with wetness.   
  
The falling water drummed against the ground and Snape smiled slightly. These moments of almost-peace - nothing but an illusion, he knew but refused to accept - were the sole reason he dragged his worn self out of bed some mornings. Most mornings, truth to be told.  
  
Just standing besides Draco's shimmering presence made him feel as if he was bathed in healing light. Even with the weight of the wards pushing him down, he found himself more relaxed and content, as odd as it may seem, than he had been all day long.  
  
Something brushed against his hand and he managed to open an eye. Draco met his tired gaze evenly, and traced his lips with an icy finger.   
  
"Shh... It's nothing. I just, I needed to-"  
  
"Touch?" The boy nodded. "Mm, I understand. Sometimes, you just need." They waited for several heartbeats, while something passed by in a rustle of claws and scales.   
  
"You're too cold, child."  
  
Draco's lips twitched and he drawled in that oh-so-familiar way. "So would you be, if you were stuck out here all the time."   
  
"You could leave," Snape suggested. He was proud that his voice hardly shook at all, even thought the mere idea gave him nightmares.  
  
"No," Draco said. "No, I don't think I can. You're here. And somewhere beyond-" He made a haphazard wave towards the wards. "-is Father. I can't go to him, just as I can't join those people." He glared towards the lumbering shadow of Hogwarts. "Here, in-between, is the only place for me. At least," he said shyly, not meeting Snape's suddenly much more focused gaze, "for now."  
  
"You don't want to go alone," Snape clarified.   
  
The boy shook his head, silvery hair dancing.   
  
"Then wait," the Potions Master said. "Soon enough, we will all leave. Whether we like it or not."  
  
"Yes. And until then, I'll wait. Keep lookout."  
  
"For my sake?"   
  
Draco shrugged, and his eyes shone like mercury. So exquisite.   
  
"Perhaps."  
  
  
  
Most would see the Malfoys as vicious, selfish creatures. To Severus, however, they had always meant a moment of respite from a present he could not stand and a past he was never allowed to escape. Lucius, during the grim days of childhood, and Draco, the only brightness in a life lived among shadows.   
  
Slowly, Snape's eyes fell close again. His partner hovered around him protectively, but as Snape shivered, Draco withdrew slightly and returned to gaze upon the wards again. He also kept an ear out for those hailing from the castle; the last thing they needed was anyone finding Severus asleep on his post.   
  
Far away in the night, a lonely, plangent howl rose. The sound shattered the fragile calm of the night and Snape jerked to attention as the wards crackled and bulged. Something large was ferociously throwing itself against the magic, and Snape desperately gripped the iron tighter.  
  
Teeth gritted and eyes flashing, he spoke old words of protection and strength, and whatever the creature had been, it howled in defeat and withdrew, green and pink sparks trailing it until it finally slipped away in the rain.  
  
The Potions master was breathing heavily, but after a quick check he found that he had suffered no lasting damage. Pure luck, he assumed. The last time something of that size had challenged Hogwarts', two of the guards had ended up in the Infirmary for several days.   
  
"Are you all right, sir? I could get someone if-"   
  
"No," Snape managed, between rasping breaths. "Just give me a moment. I'm fine, Mr. Malfoy!"   
  
Judging from Draco's pout, he was not convinced, but he kept silent. After an hour of near-paranoid watchfulness, they both managed to relax enough to make the rest of the night bearable.   
  
As dawn approached, the clouds began to lighten up. In the orange light, a grey figure, almost as haggard and worn as Snape, approached the solitary guardian.   
  
"Good morning, Professor," Hermione Granger said apathetically as he came within hearing range. "Cold tonight."   
  
She should have been a girl, Snape thought, just maturing into womanhood. Instead she seemed barely more than a wraith, far too worn for her age. The hair, once thick and bushy, was reduced to a handful of grey. Her inquiring eyes that had once spent so much time peering into books and scrolls had dimmed and emptied.   
  
The Death Eater's first true attack had been a much too rude awakening for so many, the Muggleborns in particular. One did not know magic until one had witnessed its awesome destructive power when yielded by someone completely without a conscience.   
  
"Indeed, a dreadful night. Here," Snape held out the staff, "I have no tolerance for your prattle today, Granger. There was an attack-"  
  
"Voldemort?" the witch asked.   
  
"Of course not," Snape growled. "Do you think I would still be standing here in that case? It was some beast."  
  
"Oh. Okay."   
  
The greying young witch seemed ready to dismiss it, though she put on something resembling a concerned face at Snape's angry scowl.   
  
How he hated to watch her, or any of the others lost young souls that he had failed to protect. They were living witnesses of his many failures.  
  
"Those creatures are bad enough. As you should know! Or have you forgotten what happened to your husband?"  
  
Hermione paled and her eyes became suspiciously bright. "You vicious..."  
  
"Yes," Snape agreed, "but what's out there is even worse. As our unfortunate Mr. Weasley discovered. Of course," he said, sneering at her pain, "had he spent more time on actually listening to what his betters were saying instead of-"  
  
"Shut up," the girl whispered. She was trembling like a leaf, Snape noticed detachedly. "You don't understand. Shut up. You have never- You don't understand!" she cried and nearly yanked the staff out of his hands  
  
"Oh, but you see, Miss Weasley-Granger, I understand exactly!" he hissed. "And I know that if you do not begin to *live* again, you shall soon join your late husband in the flesh, not only in spirit."  
  
Tears were spilling down her face, and she clutched the iron close as if it was her last defence against a world gone mad with hate.  
  
"Bastard," she said, "greasy, ugly bastard! How can you understand? You have never loved or been loved! You can't do anything but hate!"   
  
Snape smirked, though his heart felt too heavy. "See? How easy it is to find your fire again. Ah, sweet youth..." He grinned maliciously, and in a viper-fast movement, Snape grabbed the girl's trembling chin.   
  
"If you ever," he said, voice pure ice, "ever again dare to show up at guard duty like that, I shall personally chuck you outside the wards. We do *not* need that attitude. Understood?"  
  
Her face was twisted with pain and fury, but Hermione managed to keep silent. With a sharp nod, Snape released her and wiped his hands on the soggy black robe.   
  
"Oh, and Miss Weasley-Granger? Don't ever presume."  
  
"What?" she asked. Her voice was no longer trembling or breaking, but it didn't contain that horrible emptiness either.   
  
"Do. Not. Presume to know me!" Eyes burning black, Snape swept around and stalked off.   
  
Mouth hanging open, Hermione was about to ask what in Merlin's name he was talking about, when a glint of silver pulled her eyes outwards. As she looked back again, Snape had already reached the first greenhouses and she knew that even if he had deigned to answer, he was too far away to hear her now.   
  
Invisible but still highly present, Draco Malfoy's spirit smiled warmly as he watched the dark shape disappear inside the castle for some much needed food and rest. His Severus was still stubbornly clinging to this awful life, but for each passing night, he took another step towards Draco. Any fool could see it, but they didn't care. Who had ever cared about the slimy Slytherins?   
  
The Professor cared about them. And soon enough, Draco would be able to care for him in return and they would be free of this no-man's land.   
  
Hermione shivered. It was always so cold at this grounding-point; maybe that was why Snape preferred it.  
  
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The end  
  
Feedback please ^_^  
  
/Dancing Moon 


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